Surprendre le dragon
by amaranth
Summary: D/H romance. What happens when Hermione and Draco fall in love? And what if Lucius finds out? (ok i admit it i am terrible at summaries)
1. suprendre le dragon

Catching the Dragon ****

Authors Note: First of all, the only thing belonging to me is the plot, and that isn't much to brag about. Characters, setting, and everything else belong to the wonderful JK Rowling, who will hopefully not bother suing me. The only thing that might possibly be mine is Draco's soul… only sadly I do not have the power to possess figments of other people's imaginations. The whole how Draco looks when he sleeps thing had no meaning when I wrote it, but it does now. *grin*. By the way this is my first fanfic so don't be too harsh. All flames will be used to melt Draco's icy dragon heart. In the future, there will be more of a plot than just Hermione's musings, this is just an introduction of sorts. Please review! Enjoy.

(By the way I think the title means "to catch the dragon by surprise," but if I'm wrong tell me in a review)

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Surprendre le Dragon

Hermoine woke-up slowly and looked around. The curtains surrounding her bed were closed-she didn't remember closing them-and the room was much colder than it normally was this time of the year. She couldn't remember coming up here last night at all. Then it clicked – the curtains were made of heavy dark green material. Her heart stopped. She wasn't in her room at all; she was, of all places, in the Slytherin dungeons. 

Then she remembered coming here. She had needed someone to talk too, somewhere to go. Her only good friends had always been Harry and Ron; she certainly couldn't talk to either of them at the moment. She had had a huge fight with Harry, and it had totally drained her. He was acting as if they were still dating, and being over protective again. In fact, the recent arguments had started because Harry dear 'disapproved' of the amount of time she had been spending with a certain Slytherin lately. Honestly, he acted as if it had been her fault that she had gotten two weeks of detention with him. As if she, Hermione Granger, had tried to get a detention! Harry could be so stupid sometimes. That particular evening he had been doing a pretty good job of making the whole common room believe that she had intentionally coordinated their detentions. Ron had barely even had to be convinced. Everyone else had acted as if she was diseased. She couldn't sleep in her dorm with the other sixth years, or in the common room where she would have to deal with Harry. And because she had no friends in other houses, she had nowhere to sleep.

She realized how much worse it would be when Harry found out where she had ended up spending the night. That was, if he found out. Not just the fact that she was on Slytherin turf, but that she had slept in Draco Malfoy's bed, with Master Malfoy himself in it. Harry would make it out to be so much worse than it was, as if something had actually happened between her and Draco (it hadn't). In fact, she hadn't admitted to herself that she really liked Draco until… well, now actually. And Harry would make it seem like Malfoy had deliberately seduced and corrupted her, and that life would never be the same again, blah, blah, blah. For heaven's sake, things wouldn't have been so bad if she had never gone out with poor Harry. He was so used to getting his own way and being the center of attention that he hadn't understood at all when she had broken up with him last term. It was as if he needed someone to manipulate because his life was in so much turmoil. And he would have had to pick these particular two weeks to become a pain, when she was already confused enough.

Actually, the past two weeks hadn't really been all that bad. She had gotten detention from Snape, and Draco had gotten it from McGonagall. What she had done didn't really warrant a two week detention: she had just had her first big fight with Harry, and was rather stressed out. As a result, she had just sort of snapped when Snape picked on her. She had ruined some potions and a couple things had accidentally exploded. Oops. So, to spite her, Snape had given her a two week detention and had coordinated it with Malfoy's just to irritate her more. They had spent some time each day for the following two weeks cleaning every imaginable trophy in Hogwarts under the shrewd watch of Filch. After ignoring each other for the first few hours, they had begun to talk out of boredom. They didn't really hate each other as much as they used to; they had taken to avoiding each other instead. After the first few days of bitter arguing, even that had fallen away. Of course, they still did it in public. But when they were cleaning their routine exchange of insults became more of a contest of wits then a vicious battle. In fact, their sense of humor was one of the few things they had at all in common. What sense of humor? you ask. Well, Hermione hadn't changed much in the sense that she was still a know-it-all, but she had finally learned to laugh a bit. Oddly enough, she found Draco's sharp sarcasm amusing. Unfortunately, she was the only one. And she acted more like herself around Draco than she did around Harry and Ron, whom she was constantly getting/keeping out of trouble.

About a week ago, Hermione had actually found herself really getting along with Draco and, (wonder of wonders) enjoying his company somewhat. She had started calling him Draco then. Meanwhile, she had been getting in more arguments with Harry, and he didn't even know about their relationship. Her 'relationship' with Draco, which consisted of exactly one kiss, had started two days ago, when she had kissed him full on the mouth simply because he had implied that she wouldn't dare to. When he had started to kiss her back, she got kind of worried that he was playing some sort of trick on her. What the hell were they doing? He had pulled away a minute later, grinning triumphantly. That had really made her fret, until she realized that it wasn't his usual smirk. She had blushed furiously and then thrown herself into polishing an old Quiditch trophy. However, neither of them would have actually claimed that they liked one another at all, just that they had learned to live with each other and were taking advantage of the situation. 

She didn't think there would ever be any romance in their relationship anyway. Which would be, she thought sadly, relatively short-lived. After all, no one knew they could even stand each other, and neither of them was going to mess up their reputations by telling people. Besides, Draco wasn't exactly a mushy sort of guy. The stupid, arrogant, evil, insufferable git.

It was then that she realized that the insufferable git had spent the entire night with his arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders. She sat up slowly so as not to disturb him, and then turned around to take a good look at him. Hermione very rarely got to just sit and stare at him, and he was just so… (Need I even finish my sentence? Gorgeous, evil, sexy, take your pick). He looked totally different now. During the day he normally was glaring coolly, or wearing his trademark smug look, or that slow, seductive smile that she had so recently discovered. When he was asleep, though, he looked so young and peaceful and… innocent. Hermione snorted. Draco was many things, but angelic was not among them. Although, she did rather like that picture; a half naked Draco with nice feathery wings. She grinned madly.

Just then he stirred and woke up. His eyes opened slowly and he looked at her for a minute. Then it was his turn to smile, as he pulled her back down next to him and wrapped his arms around her again. She would never have believed that Draco could be this… gentle. He must have been either totally and completely stoned, or not yet fully awake. Either way, Hermione couldn't deny the fact that she kind of liked him like this. She had finally caught the dragon off guard.


	2. haze

Authors Note: First of all: blah blah blah, nothing belongs to me except the plot, don't sue me, blah blah blah ****

Authors Note: First of all: blah blah blah, nothing belongs to me except the plot, don't sue me, blah blah blah. I know Draco is kind of out of character, but I tried to make it seem as believable as possible. Yeah, and the next in the next chapter we start with the actual plot and dialogue. Joy! By the way, thank you so much to all the people who were wonderful and reviewed! Those reviews kept me awake in school during a week where I would otherwise have been half dead. I would thank you individually, except that eventually that would get scary and time consuming, so just know that I really, really appreciate it. Now go read.

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Chapter Two

Draco had lain there unmoving for some time. He would have gotten up, but everything was just so fuzzy. He had slept for much longer than he usually did, which was making his mind sort of numb. He felt the pressure of Hermione's shoulders on his arm and noticed how warm she was. In the dark recesses of his brain, some part of him was horrified that he was acting this tranquil, like a domesticated housecat. For the moment, however, the fuzzy haze was quite pleasant. 

Pleasant was not exactly a word Draco used very often, nor was it a word that accurately described many aspects of his life. It was not a word that could be applied to his home, his outlook on life, his friends, or his family. He really didn't want to think about his family, especially in his current fuzzy state of mind. Not that they were terrible people, but they didn't exactly fit in with the current setting. Narcissa, for example, was envied because of her wealth and high marriage. In reality, Draco knew that she was unhappy. Not that he particularly cared. She had let Lucius have complete control over Draco's upbringing and rarely interfered, for which Draco was bitter. He was her only child, and yet she had always been too cowed to stand up to Lucius for him. Now Draco was returning the favor. 

He particularly detested Lucius at times, mostly because Lucius was a malicious, evil jerk who had no compassion for anyone. He had never been directly cruel to Draco, but he had never listened to him either. Because of Lucius, his childhood had been made up of various Death Eater gatherings, and it looked like that was how his future would be, despite his wishes. Draco had been taught to perform various Dark curses as soon as he had been given a wand. And, having Lucius for a father, most of these curses were punishable by life in Azkaban. So basically, Draco had been a walking arsenal of death and darkness since he had been about eight. Not what you would call a pleasant childhood.

The only times he was happy were when he was at Hogwarts. Not that he had any real friends, but it was still better than the cold, impersonal Malfoy Manor was. Spending time with Hermione had also made him strangely content. That damned fuzzy haze was coming back again. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that her hair was in his face and his arm was around her. This whole healthy relationship thing was completely beyond him. Naturally, he had had other girlfriends, a rather long list of them actually. Most of them, however, had been attracted either to his money, his supposed power, or his body. He had a feeling Hermione liked him for something else. For some reason, this thought just made the haze thicker, and his stomach turned all mushy. Oh God, what has happened to the Draco that we all know and worship? he thought. It was all right, though, because she was the only one around whom he acted differently. And their relationship was just fine as long as no one found out. Most of all his father. 

Oh shit. He had totally forgotten that Granger was muggleborn. If his father ever found out that she had been in his room all night . . . well, suffice to say she would be as good as dead. Draco's father wasn't cruel to him, but that didn't change that he was a bastard to everyone else. He should get her out of there fast. Immediately would be even better. 

Unfortunately, Hermione chose that moment to sit up and stare at him. He could feel her gaze drilling into his mind. He couldn't quite bring himself to open his eyes yet. Then he heard her snort, as if she were laughing. What could she be laughing at? He opened his eyes and the answer was obvious; him. He pulled her down next to him again.

She turned over to face him, and they looked at each other for a while before she leaned forward and kissed him softly. That was the point at which all thoughts of Lucius and torture devices vanished from his thoughts. Draco returned the kiss and deepened it, marveling at how warm her lips were. The haze returned, blocking out all rational thought completely. Hermione pulled away and nestled her head against his chest. 


	3. trouble from the sky

Authors Note: No dialogue as of yet, but the plot is finally sort of appearing ****

Authors Note: No dialogue as of yet, but the plot is finally beginning to appear. This chapter might be a little confusing by itself, but when I post the next one (hopefully tomorrow) everything should be made clear. I also really wanted to post this chapter today so I sort of rushed through it, which should account for some mistakes. I own nothing, weep. Thank you to all of the wonderful people who reviewed before. To the rest of you, please review. Please?

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Chapter Three

A few minutes later, Hermione heard a very loud hooting noise, and sat up with a start. Draco stiffened slightly next to her. She was about to ask what in the world was at his window, but before she could utter a sound he was looming over her with his hand pressed against her mouth. He gave her a warning look that contained poorly concealed fear, which was particularly odd when compared to the serene expression on his face moments before. Then Draco pulled back his curtains and got up. She could hear his footsteps crossing around to the window, on her side of the bed. Hermione could hear the hooting louder this time, and figured it was some owl giving Draco his mail. But why would it come here instead of to the Great Hall, and why would an owl have made Draco all panicked looking? There was silence for a moment as he read the letter and scratched out some sort of response. After that, there was nothing. Or rather, there might have been, but Hermione wasn't paying much attention as she was trying very hard not to sneeze. She failed miserably.

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All Draco could think of as he got out of the bed was that nothing mattered but making sure the owl wasn't aware of Hermione's presence. He knew it wasn't his own eagle owl because that owl was currently up in the owlery. The next logical conclusion was that it was from his father, and that was most definitely not a good thing. 

He untied the scroll from its leg and began to read. Unfortunately, the letter said exactly what he had been hoping I wouldn't say. It wasn't anything he couldn't fix, though. He wrote a response and tied the scroll back on the owl's leg. Instead of just taking off like a normal owl would, this one just looked around the room for a few seconds.

There was another of his fears confirmed. Lucius put scrying spells on some of the owls he sent out and whatever the owl saw would be sent back to the Manor. Draco wasn't quite sure why his father had sent one with this particular letter, but he sometimes did it to "check up" on his son. Normally Draco would have been glad for this bit of normal fatherly concern. Today, however, was one day he definitely did not want to be checked up on. Luckily, Hermione seemed to be doing an unusually good job of being quiet.

Just as this thought formed in his mind, he heard her sneeze. The owl looked at the bed, then at Draco, and then back at the bed. It took off. He hoped that it was taking off out the window, but he was sadly mistaken. The owl flew further into the room.

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Hermione sat very still. She was sure that sneezing had been a very bad thing, but she wasn't quite sure why. Draco hadn't precisely been clear on exactly what she was in danger from. 

She heard a swishing noise, and the next thing she knew, Hermione was confronted with a very large, very black owl peering at her from the nightstand on Draco's side of the bed. She gave shriek of surprise, and then the owl took off again, across the room and out the window. Hermione was shaking slightly, although she did not know exactly what about the ordeal was so very disturbing. Then she realized that there had been something distinctly human about the owl's eyes.


	4. our heroes quarrel

Authors Note: Arg, my plot ran away for awhile, but it's back now ****

Authors Note: Arg, my plot ran away for awhile, but it's back now. I seriously considered just killing off Hermione, but I changed my mind. Ok, fine, say it, Draco had been kind of out of character. I know, I know, but I can't help it. I think this chapter is a bit better in terms of mushy Draco. Umm… I can't remember what I was going to say. I guess that's what happens when you stand outside freezing and wet for 5 hours, darn carwash. Anyway, thanks lots and lots to my reviewers, and on with the Draco.

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Chapter 4

The owl had promptly flown out the window after its short encounter with Hermione. She seemed well enough, but Draco wished he could say the same for himself. He had the nasty feeling that he must be shaking like a leaf. Malfoys did not shake, because, naturally, Malfoys were never apprehensive. Unfortunately, there was nothing left for him to do but get her out of his room fast. If Lucius was at the Manor he would be getting the image of Hermione lying in his bed that very instant. Draco could only hope he would be out somewhere on Ministry business. He didn't think there was enough time to give Hermione a full length explanation, and he knew she would want one or she wouldn't leave. He also knew that if he did tell her the truth, she would get in the way with his father. That was just how Hermione operated. The only thing left was for him to insult her, to make her so mad she would leave without question. He felt a brief flash of guilt for what he was going to have to do, but pushed it aside. 

"What was that all about? You reacted very oddly to that owl. What did it want?" asked Hermione.

"It was my father. He wrote to say that he had heard about our detention and was going to speak to Snape about it. He said that I was spending too much time with a common mudblood. That he would see the administration punished for wasting my time with uncultured scum." Draco said it with the edge of malice he had used on her so many times before. He hoped it would be enough, that she wouldn't want to know any more than that. Besides, it had been what the letter said so he _was_ telling the truth.

"You say that almost as if you believe it. That must have been one hell of a convincing letter for you to change your mind so quickly. Funny, you always seemed like you had a spine before." Draco was glad that Hermione looked sort of angry, but not at all hurt. 

"Who's to say that I ever thought differently. You are a mudblood aren't you? You just happened to be interesting as well. Maybe our little charade could have lasted longer, except that father interrupted. By the way, he'll be here later today. I would stay out of his way if I were you. He does tend to do horrible, evil, Malfoy things to little innocent, perfect muggleborns like you." Impending guilt trip setting in. In a few short sentences, every chance he ever had with her was thrown out the window.

"How *considerate* of you to inform me of that. Rest assured that I will not be hanging around to get your father's autograph. Of course, I'm rather more concerned about avoiding you. It worked quite well before you decided to toy with me. I suggest that you let it work again. Stay away from me."

"Naturally. You're just a common, bushy haired, know it all. Why would I want anything to do with you?" Draco spat out the words

"Because you don't have anyone else. Because you'll never have anyone else. Because you could have had me and I think you knew it too. Because hopefully your father will be more pissed at you than you think, and you'll finally get the other end of his legendary wrath. Or maybe be used as a sacrifice to your precious Dark Lord? You'd deserve it, you cold blooded prat." 

Hermione couldn't possibly know how close to home her comment struck. She was supposed to be the one crying. Malfoys didn't cry. Ever. Draco turned his back to her before she could notice. It dawned on him that this was just the sort of thing that used to make him dislike her. People never got to him. It was just one of those things that one develops growing up with a sadistic lunatic for a father. Draco Malfoy did not show emotion. Granger had, with just a few thoughtless words full of her trademark assumptions, made a large crack in the mental wall that had taken nearly sixteen years for him to build. _How could you ever think you liked that stupid, stupid Mudblood?_ He had not meant the word when he had spoken it aloud to her, in fact, it had hurt him to say it. Now, however, he definitely meant it. And besides, he wasn't crying. His eyes were simply watering a bit.


	5. false assumptions

Author's Note: Ok, I know this is really short and I don't really like this chapter, but it'll have to do ****

Author's Note: Ok, I know this is really short and I don't really like this chapter, but it'll have to do. I'm too busy working on a short story for English to worry about this too much. In fact, I'm becoming obsessed. That's never a good sign. The next chapter will have less of the Draco and Hermione hate each other thing.

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Chapter 5

Hermione didn't care about his feelings. She was beyond that now. Come to think of it, she wasn't particularly surprised or hurt by what was happening between them, she just hadn't thought it would happen so soon. It was the sudden realization that he had been toying with her that tipped her over the edge. 

He turned his back to her. That made her even angrier; she was supposed to be the one who was upset, not him. Then she noticed all of the scars. Draco had had his shirt off when she had gotten there last night, and hadn't bothered to put it back on. Somehow, she had managed not to notice the scars before. They went up and down his back, as if from a whip, and while most of them were obviously old, a few looked painfully pink. 

After a moment of numb shock, Hermione realized why he had turned. She had hurt him much more than he could have ever hurt her. She had had her suspicions about life at the Malfoy manor, but she had always assumed that they were wrong, born out of hatred for Lucius.

A wave of guilt washed over her. The silence in the room stretched. She reached out to touch his shoulder. He turned around; he wasn't crying or looking particularly angry. In fact, he looked completely collected, although he was also very pale, which either meant he was going to kill something, or he was going to faint. Hermione dropped her hand to her side.

"My God Draco, I had no idea. I would never have… I'm sorry."

"It isn't at all what you probably think it is. My father isn't beating me. Don't pity me, and don't feel guilty. Just leave. Now."

She saw something flicker across his face. His expression was growing colder by the second. He was distancing himself from her more than he ever had before.

"Forgive me Draco. If I had known, about your father…"

"Well you didn't. You still don't, in fact, you never could! Leave me alone. Unless of course you would like to get an idea of what my father can be like. He'll be here in a few minutes, and I don't have to save you from him. In fact, I'd rather not. I daresay it'll be kind of fun to watch it."

__

The heartless jerk, she heard herself thinking, _how could she have let herself even wonder if she liked him? _

He saw the look on her face, and knew immediately what she was thinking. 

"Because I'm charming, wickedly good looking, rich, wonderful, witty, not to mention modest, and because now you'll have to go back to your old friends and pretend to hate me again? I can just picture you telling them that you never _really_ liked me. That all I am is a nasty, conniving, little git, a walking ATM machine who likes to eat stray cats. That for a brief moment my wealth and dashing good looks turned your head, but you're back now, back to being the saintly self-righteous bookworm that we all know and loath."

"I'm leaving Malfoy. I'm sorry your father beats you, but that doesn't change the fact that you're a total bastard. Maybe I should tell Harry about 'us' and let him tear you to shreds. Then, at least, we'd be even."

With that Hermione turned and flounced out of the room. Once she was safely outside, the angry tears began rolling down her cheeks. She was, however, still calm enough to be thankful that the common room was empty.


	6. reflections

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Authors Note: I got kind of fed up with this story for a while, but I figured it deserved another chance. I've been real busy lately what with finals and all, and I'm going away, so I figured I'd post a bit more while I still can. Thanks to the people who reviewed. I own nothing, while JK Rowling owns everything good and Harry Potter related.

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Chapter Six

Draco stood in his doorway and watched her leave. He stayed there until he could no longer hear her footsteps echoing down the long stone corridor. Then he shut the door, locked it, and began to ward it heavily because the last thing he needed right then was for someone to barge in. Most of all his father. It would be just like Lucius to show up without warning and come charging into Hogwarts. In fact, he would probably apparate right into Draco's room….

He gave himself a mighty mental kick. He had read Hogwarts, A History from cover to cover and he couldn't even remember a stupid thing like the anti-apparating charm. Hermione made him feel so stupid. Or maybe that was just from the added stress of her inevitable murder by his father. Lucius would never raise a hand against Draco, but he had no such scruples regarding non family members. The owl had definitely had the scrying spell, Draco could tell by the eerie human look in its eyes. Lucius did that sometimes when he felt like controlling his son's life. He would have called it fatherly concern, but Draco knew why he really did it. Because after all, what is life without people to manipulate? So he would see the episode with the owl and Hermione, and immediately try to find out who had spent the night in his son's bed. And when he found out that she was a mudblood…. As much as her wasn't terribly happy with Hermione, he couldn't exactly let her die, could he? And Lucius would almost definitely kill her, especially if his Death Eater cronies were around to see the owl. What he needed most was time to think.

Draco flopped onto his bed to do so, before realizing that not a half-hour before, Hermione had been next to him. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn't because he kept seeing the faint indentation of her head on the pillow. He closed his eyes and pretended that she was still there, and when that failed, he threw himself off the bed altogether. 

He wasn't sure how he felt about her at the moment. Part of him had wanted to hurt her terribly for what she had said about his father. Because she, like the rest of the school, put him into one of two categories. Either he's a prat because he wants to be, or he's a prat because his father beats him, they thought. She was jumping to the obvious conclusion that anyone in her situation would have made. Who would guess it wasn't Lucius's hand that held the whip? Well they were all wrong, although he would never admit it. But the other part of him wanted so much to keep her out of his father's clutches, even if it meant telling his father bits and pieces of the truth. And Lucius would not like the truth at all. 

Ok, Draco decided, this whole thinking thing isn't working. Either I worry about my life, or I worry about hers. And because everyone else was in Hogsmead, there was not much else to do. He decided he would take a shower, so he walked into the bathroom. He glanced at himself in the mirror, and found what he saw there profoundly disturbing. Something was definitely wrong.

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Hermione walked as calmly as she could out of the Slytherin common room. She walked as calmly as she could through the dungeons to the entrance hall. She calmly walked up the stairs, down another maze of hallways to the Gryffindor common room. She gave the Pink Lady the password, which quite unfortunately was "love conquers all," and climbed through the portrait hole. Then she stopped dead. Sitting in the chair in front of the fire, with his back to her, was someone with the distinct red hair of a Weasley brother. And she had a pretty good idea which one it had to be.

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Draco stood there in front of the mirror in shock. Everything about his appearance was the same: his hair, his body, his face, the color of his eyes. But his eyes were strangely changed, and as he looked into the mirror he felt as if he could see his soul through his eyes. People said that in books a lot. In fact, he hated it when people said that in books. But it was only supposed to happen when you were looking into the eyes of the person you loved. It definitely was not supposed to happen to your mirror image. 

He started shaking again. His father would be really pissed that he had shown so many signs of weakness in one day. Draco had no idea what was going on. His eyes had a new depth. He had seen it a million times in other people, on almost everyone else, but never in himself. It troubled him greatly.

Draco stripped off his clothes and turned the shower on. The water down here was always incredibly cold, but he didn't even notice anymore. He stood in the shower, letting it wash over him, and played back the events of the last few days in his head. He thought about waking up with her staring into his eyes, and pulling her down next to him. He owed her an explanation, and would give one to her eventually. She couldn't help saying what she had, she hadn't known the truth. He had ruined everything. 

Draco sighed heavily and leaned back against the cool stones of the shower. He was beginning to dislike the weakling romantic he was becoming. Silently, he slid down to the floor and sat there as he let the water take away the last of his bitter mask.


	7. accusations

Author's Note: Lalala… back from vacation ****

Author's Note: Lalala… back from vacation! I finally got to write a lot. Now I'm up to 5 unfinished fics, and I have posted exactly one of them. Oh well. Thank you to all my lovely reviewers, and I apologize to those who think I'm not writing fast enough. I agree. I promise to do better! and now onto the Drakie-dear.

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Chapter 7

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Oh goodie, thought Hermione as she paused in the middle of the common room. _Being verbally abused by Ron is just what I need right now. _It was especially unwelcome because Harry and Draco had both recently done the exact same thing. And she knew that he was going to yell at her, not only because it was a very Ron-like thing to do, but also because there was no other reason she could think of for him not to be in Hogsmeade with the others.

If he had been waiting all this time since everyone else had left, it meant he would be that much more frustrated now. Hermione braced herself. She knew that Ron had heard the portrait hole close, but when he turned around, he didn't look all that mad. _Oh, right, _thought Hermione, _he knows I wasn't here, but he doesn't know I was *****there*. So I'll lie. A lot._

"Morning Ron. Why aren't you off at Hogsmeade?," she asked.

"Harry and I were worried about you when we found out that you hadn't come back last night. We decided that one of us should stay behind and make sure you were all right. I figured that given Harry's present mood it might be safer if I stayed here instead."

_Oh that's rich_, thought Hermione. "Why should I care which one of you stayed behind? You both acted like prats last night. And God knows I really want to talk to you after you supported him. Because, of course, you were really there for me when I was off crying my eyes out last night."

"Yeah, where were you last night? I didn't know that you were that upset, and Harry probably didn't either. And well, you have been spending a lot of time with him lately. After all, this is Malfoy we're talking about."

"I had a bloody detention with him! I didn't exactly have a choice in the matter. Besides, from the way that everyone's been acting, at this point I might actually rather spend time with him than with Harry."

"So he didn't, like, abduct you or anything?" asked Ron.

Hermione simply rolled her eyes at him.

"And you didn't have a mad snog session with him?"

"No, honestly Ron. Just out of curiosity though, if I had, would that really have been a good reason to disown me?" 

"Sorry… overreacted… evil git… grumble," muttered Ron. "But come on, Malfoy? He's been insulting all of us for as long as we've been in Hogwarts, and his family alone contains enough Death Eaters to fuel the second coming of the Dark Lord. Maybe we wouldn't disown you, but you've gotta admit, we'd probably have to send you to St. Mungos." He laughed and gave her arm a friendly punch, letting her know that everything was ok. _Little does he know…_

In Hermione's mind, however, everything was definitely not ok. She still didn't know what her chances were of making up with Harry, and she knew that Ron would hate her again if she so much as looked at Malfoy the wrong way (which she would be doing a lot of). Not that he could help hating Malfoy. After the mornings events, she might be persuaded in sharing that particular sentiment with him. For the moment, however, she was blissfully safe from Lucius, Draco, and Harry, so she agreed to play Ron at chess.

***

After drying himself off and changing into his usual black garb, Draco was beginning to feel better. Although he couldn't quite call it a plan, he did have some idea of what he was going to do about this entire mess. Most likely Lucius wouldn't bother pursuing Hermione if Draco made it clear that he had no actual affection for her, if he made it seem as though she had been a conquest. So he would be even nastier than he usually was, and maybe spread some vicious rumors on the side. Hermione would be mad as hell; but then again, he was saving her life. 

His next priority would be to encourage his father to postpone the next step of his initiation into the service of the Dark Lord. He hadn't particularly been jumping for joy at the prospect of being a Death Eater before. Now however, he was going to have serious problems. Draco didn't know what had happened to his eyes, but if he were to be a Death Eater, he couldn't exactly have his face be an open book. And he also wasn't relishing having any more marks on his back - look where they had gotten him so far. Oh well, the best he could do was practice his best Malfoy death glare in whatever time he had left.


End file.
